AINLY
the Round Table talk was monologues -- narrative accounts of the adventures in which these
prisoners were captured and their friends and backers killed and stripped of their steeds
and armor. As a general thing -- as far as I could make out -- these murderous adventures
were not forays undertaken to avenge injuries, nor to settle old disputes or sudden
fallings out; no, as a rule they were simply duels between strangers -- duels between
people who had never even been introduced to each other, and between whom existed no cause
of offense whatever. Many a time I had seen a couple of boys, strangers, meet by chance,
and say simultaneously, "I can lick you," and go at it on the spot; but I had
always imagined until now that that sort of thing belonged to children only, and was a
sign and mark of childhood; but here were these big boobies sticking to it and taking
pride in it clear up into full age and beyond. Yet there was something very engaging
about these great simple-hearted creatures, something attractive and lovable. There did
not seem to be brains enough in the entire nursery, so to speak, to bait a fish-hook with;
but you didn't seem to mind that, after a little, because you soon saw that brains were
not needed in a society like that, and indeed would have marred it, hindered it, spoiled
its symmetry -- perhaps rendered its existence impossible.
There was a fine manliness observable in almost every face; and in some a certain
loftiness and sweetness that rebuked your belittling criticisms and stilled them. A most
noble benignity and purity reposed in the countenance of him they called Sir Galahad, and
likewise in the king's also; and there was majesty and greatness in the giant frame and
high bearing of Sir Launcelot of the Lake.
There was presently an incident which centered the general interest upon this Sir
Launcelot.

At a sign from a sort of master of ceremonies, six or eight of the prisoners
rose and came forward in a body and knelt on the floor and lifted up their hands toward
the ladies' gallery and begged the grace of a word with the queen. The most conspicuously
situated lady in that massed flower-bed of feminine show and finery inclined her head by
way of assent, and then the spokesman of the prisoners delivered himself and his fellows
into her hands for free pardon, ransom, captivity, or death, as she in her good pleasure
might elect; and this, as he said, he was doing by command of Sir Kay the Seneschal, whose
prisoners they were, he having vanquished them by his single might and prowess in sturdy
conflict in the field.
Surprise and astonishment flashed from face to face all over the house; the queen's
gratified smile faded out at the name of Sir Kay, and she looked disappointed; and the
page whispered in my ear with an accent and manner expressive of extravagant derision --
"Sir KAY, forsooth! Oh, call me pet names, dearest, call me a marine! In twice a
thousand years shall the unholy invention of man labor at odds to beget the fellow to this
majestic lie!"
Every eye was fastened with severe inquiry upon Sir Kay. But he was equal to the
occasion. He got up and played his hand like a major -- and took every trick. He said he
would state the case exactly according to the facts; he would tell the simple
straightforward tale, without comment of his own; "and then," said he, "if
ye find glory and honor due, ye will give it unto him who is the mightiest man of his
hands that ever bare shield or strake with sword in the ranks of Christian battle -- even
him that sitteth there!" and he pointed to Sir Launcelot. Ah, he fetched them; it was
a rattling good stroke. Then he went on and told how Sir Launcelot, seeking adventures,
some brief time gone by, killed seven giants at one sweep of his sword, and set a hundred
and forty-two captive maidens free; and then went further, still seeking adventures, and
found him (Sir Kay) fighting a desperate fight against nine foreign knights, and
straightway took the battle solely into his own hands, and conquered the nine; and that
night Sir Launcelot rose quietly, and dressed him in Sir Kay's armor and took Sir Kay's
horse and gat him away into distant lands, and vanquished sixteen knights in one pitched
battle and thirty-four in another; and all these and the former nine he made to swear that
about Whitsuntide they would ride to Arthur's court and yield them to Queen Guenever's
hands as captives of Sir Kay the Seneschal, spoil of his knightly prowess; and now here
were these half dozen, and the rest would be along as soon as they might be healed of
their desperate wounds.
Well, it was touching to see the queen blush and smile, and look embarrassed and happy,
and fling furtive glances at Sir Launcelot that would have got him shot in Arkansas, to a
dead certainty.
Everybody praised the valor and magnanimity of Sir Launcelot; and as for me, I was
perfectly amazed, that one man, all by himself, should have been able to beat down and
capture such battalions of practiced fighters. I said as much to Clarence; but this
mocking featherhead only said:
"An Sir Kay had had time to get another skin of sour wine into him, ye had seen
the accompt doubled."
I looked at the boy in sorrow; and as I looked I saw the cloud of a deep despondency
settle upon his countenance. I followed the direction of his eye, and saw that a very old
and white-bearded man, clothed in a flowing black gown, had risen and was standing at the
table upon unsteady legs, and feebly swaying his ancient head and surveying the company
with his watery and wandering eye. The same suffering look that was in the page's face was
observable in all the faces around -- the look of dumb creatures who know that they must
endure and make no moan.
"Marry, we shall have it a again," sighed the boy; "that same old weary
tale that he hath told a thousand times in the same words, and that he WILL tell till he
dieth, every time he hath gotten his barrel full and feeleth his exaggeration-mill
a-working. Would God I had died or I saw this day!"
"Who is it?"
"Merlin, the mighty liar and magician, perdition singe him for the weariness he
worketh with his one tale! But that men fear him for that he hath the storms and the
lightnings and all the devils that be in hell at his beck and call, they would have dug
his entrails out these many years ago to get at that tale and squelch it. He telleth it
always in the third person, making believe he is too modest to glorify himself --
maledictions light upon him, misfortune be his dole! Good friend, prithee call me for
evensong."
The boy nestled himself upon my shoulder and pretended to go to sleep. The old man
began his tale; and presently the lad was asleep in reality; so also were the dogs, and
the court, the lackeys, and the files of men-at-arms. The droning voice droned on; a soft
snoring arose on all sides and supported it like a deep and subdued accompaniment of wind
instruments. Some heads were bowed upon folded arms, some lay back with open mouths that
issued unconscious music; the flies buzzed and bit, unmolested, the rats swarmed softly out from a
hundred holes, and pattered about, and made themselves at home everywhere; and one of them
sat up like a squirrel on the king's head and held a bit of cheese in its hands and
nibbled it, and dribbled the crumbs in the king's face with naive and impudent
irreverence. It was a tranquil scene, and restful to the weary eye and the jaded spirit.
This was the old man's tale. He said:
"Right so the king and Merlin departed, and went until an hermit that was a good
man and a great leech. So the hermit searched all his wounds and gave him good salves; so
the king was there three days, and then were his wounds well amended that he might ride
and go, and so departed. And as they rode, Arthur said, I have no sword. No force *, said
Merlin, hereby is a [* Footnote from M.T.: No matter.] sword that shall be yours and I
may. So they rode till they came to a lake, the which was a fair water and broad, and in
the midst of the lake Arthur was ware of an arm clothed in white samite, that held a fair
sword in that hand. Lo, said Merlin, yonder is that sword that I spake of. With that they
saw a damsel going upon the lake. What damsel is that? said Arthur. That is the Lady of
the lake, said Merlin; and within that lake is a rock, and therein is as fair a place as
any on earth, and richly beseen, and this damsel will come to you anon, and then speak ye
fair to her that she will give you that sword. Anon withal came the damsel unto Arthur and
saluted him, and he her again. Damsel, said Arthur, what sword is that, that yonder the
arm holdeth above the water? I would it were mine, for I have no sword. Sir Arthur King,
said the damsel, that sword is mine, and if ye will give me a gift when I ask it you, ye
shall have it. By my faith, said Arthur, I will give you what gift ye will ask. Well, said
the damsel, go ye into yonder barge and row yourself to the sword, and take it and the
scabbard with you, and I will ask my gift when I see my time. So Sir Arthur and Merlin
alight, and tied their horses to two trees, and so they went into the ship, and when they
came to the sword that the hand held, Sir Arthur took it up by the handles, and took it
with him. And the arm and the hand went
under the water; and so they came unto the land and rode forth. And then Sir Arthur saw a
rich pavilion. What signifieth yonder pavilion? It is the knight's pavilion, said Merlin,
that ye fought with last, Sir Pellinore, but he is out, he is not there; he hath ado with
a knight of yours, that hight Egglame, and they have fought together, but at the last
Egglame fled, and else he had been dead, and he hath chased him even to Carlion, and we
shall meet with him anon in the highway. That is well said, said Arthur, now have I a
sword, now will I wage battle with him, and be avenged on him. Sir, ye shall not so, said
Merlin, for the knight is weary of fighting and chasing, so that ye shall have no worship
to have ado with him; also, he will not lightly be matched of one knight living; and
therefore it is my counsel, let him pass, for he shall do you good service in short time,
and his sons, after his days. Also ye shall see that day in short space ye shall be right
glad to give him your sister to wed. When I see him, I will do as ye advise me, said
Arthur. Then Sir Arthur looked on the sword, and liked it passing well. Whether liketh you
better, said Merlin, the sword or the scabbard? Me liketh better the sword, said Arthur.
Ye are more unwise, said Merlin, for the scabbard is worth ten of the sword, for while ye
have the scabbard upon you ye shall never lose no blood, be ye never so sore wounded;
therefore, keep well the scabbard always with you. So they rode into Carlion, and by the
way they met with Sir Pellinore; but Merlin had done such a craft that Pellinore saw not
Arthur, and he passed by without any words. I marvel, said Arthur, that the knight would
not speak. Sir, said Merlin, he saw you not; for and he had seen you ye had not lightly
departed. So they came unto Carlion, whereof his knights were passing glad. And when they
heard of his adventures they marveled that he would jeopard his person so alone. But all
men of worship said it was merry to be under such a chieftain that would put his person in
adventure as other poor knights did."